I'm in the brown river
Incessantly washing
Peering at your pedestal
In the canopy's closet
With your figurative man
Subtly drenched in your palm
He rubs and rubs and rubs
In your sequestered world
The tiniest of ambulances
Opens its cupboard
And assist in the rescue
Exhausted in the face of the religious heat
You are grounding beans for his
Accompanying dish
Weaving the seeds in as he
Pounds on the limbs of the trees
Sprawling yourself in the freedom air
As they load me up
Foul fiend of the day time
With your attached umbilical chord.
Adding your comment: